Captive Sins
by s-sdensi
Summary: 3 times in Marty Deeks's life where his father haunts him TW: ABUSE, ALCOHOLISM, GUNS, DEATH (for divergent338; part of NCIS:LA Hiatus Fanfic Exchange) [Deeks-centric]


**AN: Hi, I'm back! On Tumblr, I'm participating in the NCIS:LA Hiatus Fanfiction Exchange, and my exchange buddy was _divergent338_! Also, big thanks to _delicatelyglitteryperson_ /Hannah for reading over this and helping me make this not too awkward! **

**(As usual, I do not own any of the NCIS: Los Angeles characters.)**

* * *

(1)

If you asked Martin Brandel what was the worst day of his life, he would reply with "June 9th, 1984".

June 9th not only marked Roberta Brandel's 25th birthday, but the day his father, Gordon, began to abuse his wife and son. Tensions between Roberta and Gordon had been rising for a few days, as Gordon had been laid off from his job and resented his wife for still holding her secretarial job and being the breadwinner of the home. What had began as a loving and secure relationship was slowly deteriorating into a angry and toxic one. Roberta hoped that Gordon would soon start looking for another job soon, as the pressure to bring more money home was beginning to take a toll on her. She also hoped that Gordon would spend a little bit more time with Martin, because every boy needed a close relationship with his father.

The day started off with Martin waking up just as the sun peeked through the sky, and he dashed off to his mom and dad's bedroom. He tiptoed in, careful not to wake his mom or risk his surprise being ruined, then poked his dad.

"Dad? Daaad, wake up!" Gordon slowly opened his eyes to look at the clock, and grunted.

"Go back to sleep Martin. It's too early."

But that did not stop him. Martin ran into the kitchen to find the cereal his mom liked. He carefully poured the flakes into a bowl and filled it up with milk. He wasn't as careful as he would've liked, and spilled a bit of milk on the floor. He then found a glass and tried to fill some orange juice in it, but filled a puddle on the counter at first. He piled the cereal and juice on the tray when he heard his dad yell, "WHAT IS THIS?"

Martin turned to face a red-faced, blubbering Gordon Brandel. A few seconds later, his mom came running into the kitchen and gasped. "Martin, what's going on?"

His lip quivered with fear. "I-i-i was trying to make breakfast for you momma. It's your birthday today."

"Oh Martin honey, that's incredibly kind of you. Thank you!" She hugged him tightly, and his fear was alleviated. But when Roberta turned around, she found Gordon anchored to his spot, his face frozen with anger.

"Gordon, are you alright?" He tensed, then slightly relaxed.

"Yeah, um. I think I'm gonna shower." As he exited the kitchen, Martin whispered, "Momma, is dad okay?"

Roberta sighed. "I don't know sweetheart. I don't know."

The day seemed to slowly progress, with Roberta heading off to work for an extra day in pay, and Gordon disappearing from the home, leaving Martin all alone. With nothing on the TV that day, Martin decided to ride his bicycle around the neighborhood. Roberta came home at 4, and was shocked to discover Martin gallivanting around the house.

"Martin? Where is your father?"

"Dad went out somewhere."

"Huh, when did he leave?"

"Right after you did."

"Alright. Is there anything you want to do now, Martin?"

"I wanna bake a cake! Please momma, can we bake a cake for your birthday? Pleeease?" At his begging and giant puppy dog eyes, Roberta couldn't help but laugh and agree. All was good, then his dad reached home.

When Gordon slammed the door shut, Roberta and Martin's giggles ceased. Door slamming was never a good sign. Loud, heavy steps headed towards the kitchen, and Gordon stumbled into the kitchen. His fury was back, but was magnified by the alcohol he had downed earlier.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS NOW?" Martin began to tremble. Never had he heard his dad this mad before. Also, his dad had never gotten mad at him two times in a day. He clung to his momma's leg.

"We were baking a cake, Gordon sweetie. Martin wanted to for my birthday."

"Just because he asks, you said _yes_?" He stormed over to where the two stood, and flung Martin to the opposite end of the kitchen.

"MARTIN!" Roberta screamed, before being slapped. The noise of his hand hitting Roberta and Martin's shocked cries seemed to have rattled Gordon, as he froze with his eyes widening.

"Roberta?"

"Gordon?"

"Did I just hit you?" Before she could respond, he grabbed her in a hug. "Oh god Robbie, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hit you. I think I'm too drunk. I'm so sorry, Robbie."

"Gordon, do you remember what you did to Martin?" His eyes widened once again, and turned to the whimpering 5 year old.

"I hurt my son. How could I do that? I am so sorry, Martin. Will you forgive your dad?" He began to hug Martin, trying to ease the soft cries.

"I-it's o-okay, dad."

It wasn't okay. Gordon continued to return to the bar and drink his sorrows away instead of looking for new jobs. Roberta began to work longer at her job. Martin was enrolled in a daycare nearby Roberta's work. Everyday after Gordon came back home after drinking, he ended up yelling profanities at his wife and son or hitting them. But it always ended up with Gordon apologizing once his alcohol-addled brain became a little bit clear. Soon, Gordon stopped apologizing, and the abuse became even worse. What used to be just words and a swinging hand then turned into beer bottles being flung and something that made Roberta scream so loud, Martin would cower under his bed.

The abuse continued on for 6 years. 6 years of being yelled at. 6 years of broken bones and nasty bruises. 6 years of hiding his dad's true abusive nature from the public. 6 years of pain.

As Martin grew up, he would frequently wonder if today would be his last day, if his dad would finally snap. And Gordon eventually did. On Thanksgiving Day 1990, he picked up his shotgun and began to aim it at Roberta. It took an 11 year old Martin Brandel to stop his father by shooting his father in the arm before Gordon could take a shot at Roberta.

6 years of pain made Martin aim for his dad's heart. However, he missed.

* * *

(2)

If you asked LAPD Detective Marty Deeks what was the worst day of his career, he would reply with "March 15th, 2009".

He was recently transferred into the undercover department at LAPD and almost immediately assigned his first operation. What his superiors thought would be a simple 1 month assignment for their rookie turned into a complex web of drug trafficking in Los Angeles that lasted 3 months.

He walked into the LAPD building early morning after busting the bad guys, and only exited the building late at night after fully debriefing. He headed home, completely exhausted and craving the company of Monty and his own bed. Nothing felt better after hearing his faithful pooch bark excitedly at the door when he turned his key in the lock. He fell on the couch and a second later his phone started to ring.

"Ugh, not now." He hit the red button, effectively sending the caller to voicemail. His phone rang once more, and Deeks began to worry. Something big had to be happening if his phone was ringing multiple times. He looked at the caller ID and his heart jumped when he saw Tiffany's name on the screen. He hoped that she finally had gotten something out of Boyle that he could use. He pressed the green button, but before he could say anything, he heard screaming and sat up.

"Marty? Oh my god, help me please! He's going to kill me! He's going to-" As she began to sob, the phone cut off.

He grabbed his keys and ran out the door. He couldn't let Boyle kill Tiffany. She was just a girl who needed the extra cash. It was all his fault. He roped in Tiffany to become his confidential informant. It was his duty to make sure she lived through this, and could start fresh after locking up Boyle.

He made it to the motel where she worked within 30 minutes. As soon as he got out of the car, he heard the screaming. It bewildered him how none of the other girls had come in to check on her. But then too, they were used to such abnormal behaviors.

At the door, he checked at his waistband and swore. Damn, in his hurry, he forgot his gun. He took a breath, and turned the knob. The door swung right open, and Boyle turned around.

"YOU? I should've known she would've went ratting to you. How much did you pay her? Or did you sleep with her? Well, she's a good lay, ain't she?" Boyle's face was a bright crimson, and his eyes were heavily bloodshot. Deeks shut the door with his foot and his eyes shifted to the nightstand, where he saw a small pile of white powder. Cocaine. Of course he would be high right now.

"Hey, calm down. There's no need for things to escalate." Boyle chuckled.

"Well too bad sonny. Things already have." He turned back to Tiffany underneath him and swung at her face, hitting her in the jaw.

"NO!" Deeks ran over, and tackled Boyle off of Tiffany. He began to punch Boyle in the face, but Boyle kneed him between his legs, then headbutted him. Catching Deeks unguarded, he pushed him off and knelt over him.

"Frank," Tiffany softly pleaded. "Please, don't do this." Boyle's mouth widened into an ugly smirk.

"Just for you, sugar." He grabbed Deeks' hair, and slammed his head into the floor.

Pain exploded throughout Deeks' head, and Tiffany's screams just made the pain worse.

"Please, Frank! Don't do this! Please!" Boyle got back up and slowly walked to where Tiffany sat, propped up against the wall.

"You lied to me, sweetie. You said that you would be mine, and mine only. You know what happens when bad girls lie, don't you?"

"I didn't lie!"

"SHUT UP!" Boyle kicked her in the ribs, and she collapsed once again.

Though Deeks' head felt like hell, his eyes focused on Boyle's gun nearby. He reached for it, and silently cheered once he felt the cool metal in his hand. He slowly stood up, and saw Boyle's hands wrapped around Tiffany's neck.

"STOP!" He yelled, and Boyle turned to look at him. He removed his hands from Tiffany's neck, and he looked at Deeks.

"Really? You're going to shoot me? You don't have the balls to do that." He began to walk towards him, and Deeks panicked. This was eerily similar to his father, and how he used to hurt his mom. For a minute, Boyle's contorted face was replaced by Gordon Brandel's.

6 minutes of turmoil made Deeks aim for Boyle's heart. This time, he did not miss.

All Deeks could remember was pulling the trigger until he heard the click of an empty chamber. Next, he saw Boyle's dead body on the floor with blood surrounding him.

"Marty? Is he…"

"Dead? Yup." He dropped the gun and sat down, not only in shock of what he did, but in fear. What would happen to him now? There's no way he could get out of this scot free. He racked his brain, thinking about what to do before LAPD showed up.

"Alright. Tiffany, when the police show up, you need to admit to killing Boyle?"

"What?"

"Trust me. If you admit to shooting him in self-defense, they won't think much. Do you have anything about where Boyle got his drugs?"

"Uh, yeah I did. He was talking about this guy loading him up with a bunch of coke. I think his-"

"Good, tell whatever you heard to the cops, and they'll probably let you off." He picked up the gun off the floor. "Where's the bathroom?"

"To the left." Deeks went to the sink and wiped the gun of his fingerprints. As he exited the small room, he noticed a hole in the wall to his left.

"Did you fire the gun before?" Tiffany nodded.

"I got the gun from his belt and when he turned around, I tried to shoot him. But I ended up shooting the wall, and that's when he attacked me."

"Oh good. This will work. Here, do this for me." They quickly reconstructed the scene to make it match to Tiffany's story.

"Okay, LAPD should be here anytime now. You got what to do?"

"I got it. Thank you, Marty." She placed a hand on his arm.

"No problem." He tried to smile, but the best he could do seemed to fake and shaky to him.

He exited the small motel room, and as he drove out of the complex, he saw the tell-tale red and blue sirens of the police in his rear-view mirror.

* * *

(3)

If you asked Martin Andrew Deeks what the best day of his life was, he would reply with "May 15th, 2018".

He woke up to his phone ringing. Of course, it turned out to be Nell, signaling that a new case had popped up. He bid Kensi goodbye, and gave her belly a quick kiss before running out the door.

The case was a pretty routine, therefore, Deeks had seen these about a million times. All he could remember was it had a Marine, drugs, and bombs. Just a normal day at OSP.

"Hey partner." Deeks looked up from his desk to see Talia grinning at him. Ever since Kensi went on maternity leave, he had been shuffled around with multiple temporary partners. Somedays he worked with Talia if there were drugs. Somedays he worked with some random FBI agent if needed. Somedays he ended up third wheeling with Callen and Sam. Those days, Kensi would tease him, telling him about what she went through when she used to be in his position and mocking him for whining.

"Hey! You heading home now?"

"Yeah, but how's Kensi? Must suck for her being stuck at home incubating a human." Just as Deeks opened his mouth to reply, he heard a new voice butt into the conversation.

"Kensi's good. It sucks to be carrying a giant baby wherever she goes, but other than that, she's good." Kensi's teasing voice floated into the bullpen as he waddled slowly in with both hands under her belly. Deeks jumped out of his chair, much to the amusement of both ladies.

"Kens?" Not wanting to intrude between the couple, Talia picked up her bag.

"Alright, I'm heading out now. Bye Deeks. Nice to see you again, Kensi."

"You too, Talia." After Talia walked out, Deeks raised an eyebrow.

"What are you doing here?"

"Just wanted to say hi. Also, your son decided that he wants out."

"He wants out? Wait, are you in labor?"

"I guess? I don't really feel any pain, though my water probably burst in the car."

"Wait, what? Oh my god, Kensi we need to go to the hospital."

It took a good hour for the two cars to reach the hospital and check Kensi in. While Kensi was filling out the forms, Deeks called the rest of the team to let them know that he probably wouldn't make it into work the next day. He also called the moms, letting them know their first grandchild would be born soon, but to the chagrins of both ladies, they could only make it the next day.

Kensi was wheeled to the maternity ward, with Deeks at her side.

"How are you feeling?"

"I feel good."

"Do you need anything?"

"Just for this kid to get out already."

"Do you want-"

"Deeks, I'm good. Really."

6 hours of labor, and Kensi was ready to give birth. They shooed Deeks outside the room, and he was made to listen to Kensi's screams and cries of frustration. After 5 minutes, he became restless. He wanted nothing more to be inside with his wife. The clock outside ticked slowly, what felt like 3 hours was only 45 minutes in reality. The door opened, and Deeks scrambled up to meet the doctor.

"Are you ready to meet your son, Mr. Deeks?"

When he walked inside, his heart lurched into his throat. The sight of Kensi holding a wailing baby in her arms made tears well up in his eyes. She turned to him and gave him an exhausted grin.

"He's perfect, Deeks." She passed the baby to him and he was instantly gone at the sight of his son's face.

The doctors soon took the baby from them to clean and measure his vitals, leaving the husband and wife in the room. Deeks took in a shuddery breath. He was a dad, he had a son.

"You okay?" Kensi asked softly. Deeks couldn't help but remember all the awful childhood memories. That sweet, golden glow of fatherhood turned into dark memories of his father and the pain he went through.

"Deeks, you're not him." He turned to look at her, tears in his eyes.

"You're not going to mess up. You're going to be the greatest dad to our son." She slowly reached a hand to him, and he held it. He vowed to make sure that his son would never have to carry the same sins he had to carry since he was 11 years old. He intended to keep that vow until the day he died.


End file.
